


May Your Days Be

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Loss of Parent(s), Love Confessions, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: John Bates isn't looking forward to facing his hardest Christmas, but a call from his best friend Anna gives him a reason to celebrate. Modern Anna x Bates AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Six months had gone by, and the pain of her loss was as great as it had been in the days just after her passing.

He was not improving by any measure. In plain truth, he was a mess. Daylight hours were spent shut away for the most part, drifting from one thought to the next, the occasional memory seeping in that would make his heart lurch with the vivid nature in which he could picture them. He could not only hear her voice calling his name, scolding him gently for some error he had made, though she spoke words of love most of all. He could see her before his very eyes, smiling and laughing without care, before the agony had claimed her completely. Perhaps she had taken any strength he possessed with her when she slipped away.

He didn't bother to shave or even change out of his sweatpants when he popped to the 24-hour express shop, usually by the shadow of night when his insomnia was keeping him up. The zip-up hooded jacket had been replaced by a fleece as the weather got colder; the bitterest winter for a few years, so he had heard on the radio or television - one or the other - in a rare moment when he was able to concentrate. She wouldn't have liked him looking so scruffy, always teaching him to take pride in his appearance. He shook his deep-set gaze away from the bottles that were lined up behind the counter – lucky for him and so many teenagers who were greatly mistaken in their beliefs that they could handle the stronger stuff that they were out of reach – and instead met the cashier's eye for the briefest time as he paid for the loaf of bread and solitary carton of milk. He detected the combination of disgust and pity on her young face, but he didn't much care. It was late – probably past two in the morning – and he worried foremost, about a girl her age working in a corner shop in the middle of London at this hour.

The glare of the laptop screen made him squint as he confronted it again, following the familiar instructions. Bed was becoming a place he dreaded, but at the same time he didn't want to leave. A few sentences – paragraphs if he was lucky – and maybe he would be able to drop off to sleep for a bit.

It had been good of Robert to offer him the sabbatical, especially when there was so much work on at the company. Back then he had the decency to try and argue, but Robert Crawley was not one to take no for an answer. Neither did he do much in the way of sugar-coating.

_Your mother died a week ago, of course I wouldn't expect you to be running around here. God knows I can bumble through myself for a while. Take as much time as you need._

Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at the blank page before him and rubbed his hand over his prickled jaw, his oldest friend's voice echoing his mind.

_I understand how close you were. I can't imagine what you must be feeling._

_I'm ever so sorry, my dear fellow._

He swallowed away most of his sorrow, slamming the lid shut without even bothering to turn the thing off completely and narrowly missing catching the tips of his fingers. He should move to the sofa; this spot had to be killing his creativity. A short laugh left him, considering the absurdity. Five months, and he hadn't written a single word. Or rather he had, but had ended up deleting them all when he read how utterly morose they sounded.

Of course, these weren't exactly the circumstances he had planned whenever he had dreamt of taking a break from his solid and dependable career to pursue a long-held wish. It wasn't her fault, he had to tell himself. She told him enough to do whatever made his heart happy, that the decisions he made would give her joy too as long as they were made in the right place. He should have listened sooner, and now she wasn't around to give him the advice he sorely needed.

Voices in the street rang out from beneath his window, and he was suddenly aware of his space in the world, even if it surprised him slightly that there were other people just as awake as he was at this point in time.

The song that was being sung was a cheery one, distant. He managed the smallest of smiles following the words as they got louder and heartier, before trailing away onto the next set of apartments to wake their occupants or otherwise slip into their dreams.

" _Oh I wish it could be Christmas every daaaaay, so let the bells ring out for Christmas."_

As the laughter and happy shrieks below dissipated, John rubbed his eyes, mildly confused and wondering if he'd lost all track of time. It wouldn't have been too difficult, he surmised. As far as he was concerned, each day was an exact copy of the one that had preceded it. There had been garish shimmers of gold and red inside the shop, and the young cashier had been wearing antlers on a band on her head, he had the vaguest recollection.

A sudden surge of panic rushed up within him – one that would not have existed had it not been for a phone call that happened at some point within the past week, though perhaps it had been much earlier than that. He scrambled back towards the bed, retrieving the discarded laptop from amidst the tangle of covers. His sigh of relief was audible when he took in the barely readable date in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen.

05/12/2010.

_He sat at the kitchen table, picking a slice of the uneaten toast up by its corner whilst holding the phone in his other hand._

" _You're not a morning person, this is quite unexpected."_

" _I can make the exception for my favourite person in the world, can't I?"_

_His heart warmed at her casual words, jumping within his chest where it had lay near-lifeless for so long. The sound of her voice had been enough to cheer him – her accent was even stronger since she had returned to her native county – but now he was as certain as he could be that today would be one of the better days, now he had such a sentiment to hold dear._

" _Besides, Mary doesn't want the boutique opening until later, so I've had a bit of a lie-in."_

" _I thought you sounded a bit brighter than usual at this ungodly hour."_

_He had hoped their conversation would remain on her, that she wouldn't hear the roughness and all the hours of lost sleep. Really, he should have known her much better._

" _You are taking care of yourself, aren't you? I know the last thing you need is a fusspot, but there are so many minutes in the day and I just...well, I worry about you. Being so far away, and on your own."_

" _Anna, London is a big place. And I was round at Robert and Cora's the other night."_

" _One night isn't much." He could hear her frown down the line. "You are well, though? Eating enough, going out and seeing people."_

_She always looked out for him, ever since the day he had started at the company and found her sitting behind the reception desk, battling with several telephone lines that were all ringing at once. Even with all of the chaos happening around her, she had given him more than a few precious moments, offering a warm smile to welcome him while he was sodden by the rain and with his cane held shyly in his hand – two years, and he still wasn't used to taking it out with him. She didn't seem to notice it – or if she had she was kind enough not to let it distract her from looking him square in the eyes. He had been glad that she was in the lunchroom when he got out of his first very long meeting that same afternoon, and it was from there that they had become firm friends, sharing stories and many things in common._

_In fact, she was the closest friend he had ever had._

_A few little white lies wouldn't hurt too much, and he was most thankful that she wasn't able to see them written on his face._

" _I'm fine. Really."_

_The silence unsettled him for a moment or two, until he remembered that she always went quiet when she was taking in information that she deemed vital. He recalled too well the image of her chewing on her bottom lip, giving the smallest bobs of her head as she listened to another in a long line of calls that were so important to the Crawley family business._

_He missed seeing her, even if he was happy for her having the chance to live her dream._

" _I should let you get on –_

" _I don't want to sound out of line –_

_She let out a giggle at their voices overlapping._

" _You go," he said._

" _Well, I know it's only November, but you know what I'm like."_

_He laughed, only not aloud. The ache in his stomach didn't seem to want to give him the pleasure of doing so._

" _I wanted to let you know that you're welcome up here for Christmas. If you've got other plans –_

" _I don't."_

" _It's only going to be me and Mum and the house will be empty, really...oh, John, I'm sorry."_

" _Please, don't be."_

_The smile returned to her tone._

" _That's why I wanted to ask. That, and it's been so long since I've seen you. If I thought I was invading, I wouldn't dare, but I can't bear to think of you being on your own. Not then."_

_He closed his eyes tight, in an attempt to hold back his tears. Anna was the only person he had ever come across who loved Christmas as much as his mother did. Or at least, as much as she had. It was probably going to hurt like hell, but he didn't see the alternative being any better._

" _Well, if you want me. I'll do my best not to inhabit Ebenezer Scrooge."_

" _Silly beggar, you never could. I can't wait already. Come down early, a couple of weeks before. We'll make a proper time of it."_

_The smile slowly inched upon his face as he listened to all of her plans, the preparations he knew too well and some he had never heard of before in his life._

_Now, he had something to look forward to._

He didn't wait until morning to take his battered old holdall from the bottom of the wardrobe, and for once he was glad that the internet was a permanent presence, calling up the page to purchase his train tickets for the next day.

* * *

Five years seemed to pass in less than a blink of an eye, but it was strange to John how slow the last eighteen months had gone, since Anna had moved back to Yorkshire. She had been like a whirlwind helping Mary to get the boutique together – as well as to adjust to life away from the capital – and, as was only usual for her, worked all of the hours God had sent and more on top of those. He had been busy too, taking his mother for her appointments after his long shifts at the office, and then later on visiting her at the hospice every night.

On the train two little girls were running up and down the aisle, one older and faster than the other. The youngest must have been barely two years old, toddling after her sister on wobbly legs. He was interrupted from his cold cup of coffee and tracing the raindrops as they raced upon the window by a tug upon his arm, and he turned to take in the shining face with pigtails either side of her head and a gap-toothed grin that was aimed straight towards him.

A woman's voice called down the aisle, as apologetic as she could be.

"Annie! Leave that poor man alone and come and sit nicely. And bring your sister with you, please."

He smiled back at the little one, amused and strangely, impossibly nostalgic. He could easily imagine the girl to be very similar to Anna at the same age.

A cab was waiting for him at the station, along with Anna, well-wrapped in a red bobble hat and long matching scarf. She had bundled into his arms before he had chance to see his breath forming upon the crisp air, and he found it impossible not to hold her close, getting a whiff of the scent of her hair as it flowed past her shoulders, sticking out from underneath her hat while she clung onto him.

"Hello, stranger," she whispered, and despite the rapidly falling temperature he felt a warmth travel through him, right down to his feet.

"I'm sorry for being one," he offered, relaxing his arms around her.

She tutted, a passing incredulous expression drifting over her face as she looked properly at him. He had forgotten how blue her eyes were, and how much they were capable of smiling.

"Don't you dare worry about it. I haven't made as much effort as I should have done either."

He shook his head instinctively, his gaze falling upon the glowing pink tip of her nose. "You've had so much on."

"It's no excuse," she countered. Less than a few minutes, and it was like they had never been apart. She was the same as ever; fierce and feisty, kind and considerate, with a heart so big it was an utter wonder how it was contained in that petite frame of hers.

It had been a shock to him when she told him about her plans to join Mary as she left her father's company to make her own way in life. They had been sitting at their 'usual' table, kept free by everyone else, and he couldn't find the appetite to finish off the rest of his rather generous plate of pasta. She was beaming, at least up until the moment she gave him the news, and then she turned cautious, waiting patiently and hopefully for his reaction. He was happy for her, of course; he would never dare to even think about doing her down, but he knew that she was destined for far better things in life than being a receptionist. He just supposed he would always walk into work each morning to find her there, making his day with one of her smiles. It was selfish of him, but he couldn't imagine not talking to her for a solid hour over lunch, sharing a laugh with her in the tearoom, dropping her off at her apartment after a day that went on beyond the usual hours.

She had asked him with a laugh and a toss of her head whether he would miss her. The sensation he felt as he looked at her to give his reply was one that he had not encountered in some time, if indeed he ever had before.

She closed her hand, clad in a woollen mitten that separated her thumb from the rest of her fingers, around his arm, linking hers through the loop.

"You're here now, and that's all that matters."

Her arm stayed threaded with his through the journey to the house, Anna laughing when the bumps in the road caused them to rattle in their seats. He wasn't able to recall the last time he had spoke so much in a short space of time, and his throat felt slightly hoarse for doing so. It hadn't done him any good to be so isolated, as much as he thought it had been the best course of action to keep himself away from others. He made a vow to himself to change his ways when he got back, but it already seemed strange to him that Anna wouldn't be there to witness it. His spirits were low in comparison to hers but her nature was so instant and infectious that he could not stop himself from echoing her laughter.

Rich scents filled the air; the glow of several candles and their flickering flames caught his eye as he walked from the hallway to the living room, Anna remaining close behind him.

"Mum can't stop buying them.  _Sparkling Snow, Berry Trifle_...she's probably looking for the last remaining one that we haven't got in the shops right now."

John raised his eyebrows, stepping inside to find a fire crackling in the small hearth and lights twinkling from almost every eave. There were other festive decorations dotted around the place along with a poinsettia centrepiece in the middle of the coffee table. He'd gone from feeling very much like the Grinch who stole Christmas to finding himself in the midst of a winter wonderland, all perfectly replicated in a front room in Yorkshire.

Anna wore a sheepish expression as he turned back to her, the rosy glimmer of the cold outside still high on the apples of her cheeks.

"I know, we've gone a little overboard."

"Not at all," he smiled, causing her to thaw out. "It all looks lovely. It...well, it makes me feel at home."

His mother spoiled him at Christmas, even in the years when times were hard and she could barely afford to keep the house running, digging out the decorations that were nearly crumbling down from the loft. They weren't a very large tribe, and looking back he supposed that it was because she wanted to do everything she could to make the holiday special for him, her only child. Growing up he had taken all the fuss for granted, believing it was the same for everyone.

Her eyes were wide, brighter still in the glow of the reflected lights. Though they stood apart he felt the ghost of her hand resting upon him, and held a half-breath before she spoke again.

"I'm glad," she answered, so softly.

He watched her cast her gaze downward briefly, noticing how she flustered with her hands, pulling the sleeves of her jumper past where they rested.

"I've done all of the shopping I need to," she went on. "Only the essentials now, but they'll just have to wait."

"Don't tell me," he uttered, still taking everything about the scene in. "You started in September."

She giggled, shaking her head. "Not quite that early, but not too far off either."

"It's a good thing to be organised. You always have been, and I'm still not, even as Robert's assistant."

"You're better than you give yourself credit for, Mr Bates."

A distinct shiver ran down his spine at the way she pronounced his name, so familiar after the period of absence. The feeling that was still tingling seconds later wasn't as known to him, and he found himself going rather hazy, speechless but for the imprint of the smile that remained on his face.

He walked around the room with small steps, taking the time to regain himself. Tiredness was setting in; he had been up and out since nine that morning, and had barely got two hours sleep the night before. The array of lights made him drowsier still, with their soft fading in and out. He turned on his heels, half-expecting to fall backwards for a moment or two, and was struck by the empty space in the corner of the room.

His finger pointed to the vacancy in the absence of speech, Anna smirking at his look towards her.

"I wondered when you might notice there was something missing."

She bit down on her bottom lip, travelling back in time.

"That's quite a big something, if you don't mind me saying."

Her laugh filled the room once more. "We were going to go last week, but I noticed that you'd be coming down and I thought it might be something fun to do, to get you into the Christmas spirit."

He couldn't help but smile at her gentle words, knowing she wanted to coax him out of his shell but at the same time never pushing him.

"Plus, it would be good for a strong man to help us bring a tree back to the house, on a purely practical level."

He took on a stern expression, though it was not enough to fool her – if anything, her smile was bigger than it had been since he had got there.

"Do I have reason to believe that your motives for my visit weren't entirely plain, Miss Smith?"

A pair of small hands were upon his shoulders before he had time to think.

"I couldn't possibly say," she replied cheekily, her sincerity and goodness of heart shining through into her eyes. "Tomorrow, though. The weary traveller needs to get some rest first."

* * *

Baubles glistened from every branch of the tree, and each day brought the holiday closer. John did what he could to help out, even though Anna had most things well under control. He took her and her mother to the shops as often as was required for them to get everything they needed – his opinion being highly regarded when it came to picking out the best-looking turkey – and was on hand with bows and rolls of tape as the gift-wrapping assistant. He wouldn't have trusted himself not to rip the beautiful paper, and it helped the process along that he could have a mug of hot chocolate and a mince pie or two, watching as Anna folded each edge into perfect points.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning when she sat back after another present had been finished, looking rightly pleased with her work.

All of her little routines were charming to him, and made him appreciate the time of year that he had been dreading. The thought and effort she put into everything was incomparable and he loved the way her face lit up whenever a new card came through the letterbox or when she heard a carol being sung by an assembled choir of children who turned up on the doorstep. She would clap with unbridled enthusiasm every single time, handing out chocolate coins in their shiny foil wrapping to the delighted little ones, sending them on their way with even more joy than which they had came with.

She had no idea about the joy she brought within the four walls, either.

He ran a hand through his hair as he plodded down the stairs, still feeling a little sleepy. Months of insomnia had caught up with him, and most afternoons he retreated upstairs to take advantage of the change of scenery and the fact it was so much more peaceful up here. He would end up napping for at least an hour, sometimes two. Whenever he woke, a touch bleary-eyed but considerably rested, he felt guilty for not keeping Anna company. She told him that it was nothing to worry about; she didn't mind if he slept for twenty three hours of the day so long as it made him feel better.

The enticing aroma that was emanating from the kitchen dictated his steps, as well as the tuneful melody that brought an instant smile drifting to his lips.

_Anna had the run of the karaoke at the Christmas party, held at Robert's sprawling residence at the edge of the city. She had already took everybody by storm with two numbers, and was rounding off a near-perfect rendition of Sleigh Ride with Gwen, Daisy and Sybil, Robert and Cora's youngest daughter who had not long started an internship in one of the other departments._

_The bells that adorned her festive jumper jingled lightly as she walked over to where he sat, her cheeks flushed. There was a curious look in her eyes as she glanced towards him, and as she produced a sheet of paper from behind her back he began to shake his head, even if he was smiling._

" _Oh, no. Don't even think about it, Miss Smith."_

" _I'm not letting another year go by without hearing your gorgeous voice. It's very selfish to hide such a talent, you know."_

_He wrinkled his nose at her while she continued to stare him out, eyelashes fluttering._

" _As much as I like Mr Molesley, I don't think singing is quite his forte."_

_Indeed, Joseph was making quite a unique job of When A Child Is Born, intense facial expressions to accompany his crooning. They both stifled a laugh before turning to each other with accusing eyes, going solemn for a few moments._

" _Look, there's loads to choose from," a glittery fingernail cascaded down the song-list that was held in her hand. "Why don't we do a duet?"_

" _I don't know, Anna..."_

" _Ooh, look. Fairytale of New York. That's a classic, and nobody has done it yet."_

" _Erm, I'm not sure I know the words."_

_She gave a dramatic shrug of her shoulders. "John, they do put them on the screen..."_

_As the awkward and slightly pained expression remained on his face, she suddenly twigged._

" _Oh no, I suppose that's not very appropriate."_

_He gave her a soft smile to ease her embarrassment, leaning in closer to her and bumping against her shoulder. She rubbed her hand casually and without thought against the sleeve of his shirt._

" _I suspect Robert might steal the honour before we get the chance," he told her, pointing to another two-hander on the list. "I don't mind Little Drummer Boy, but he always gets to be Bowie. Even when we flip a coin for it."_

_Anna laughed, patting his arm with her palm._

" _One year, you'll get to take over. I mean, Bing is quite a legend."_

" _Well, I can't deny that."_

_She smiled brightly at him, the lights bouncing from the silver snowflakes that dangled from her ears. He reached to tuck a stray strand of hair back under one, and didn't think he saw her shoulders shudder lightly._

" _I've got it," she uttered, cherry-red lips parted. It took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away and look back at the sheet balanced on both of their laps._

_He nodded approvingly at her choice._

" _White Christmas," he said aloud. "You know how to pick them. I suppose we'd be letting the side down if we didn't."_

" _Indeed we would," a wide grin overtook her as she pulled him to his feet, returning his shoulder bump with just a touch more force. "And you still get to be Bing."_

"May your days be merry and bright," she sang to herself, sounding as peerless as if the record had been playing. "And may all your Christmases be white."

"Bravo."

"Oh," she stumbled slightly as she turned to face him, smiling as she found him standing in the doorway.

John noticed that she was blushing faintly – he wasn't sure whether it was due to his surprising her, or the fact he had overheard her impromptu performance.

"You should have done that as a solo, you know. My background vocals weren't needed in the slightest."

She giggled while she shook her head. "On the contrary. You were a wonderful partner."

The fond memories of them sharing a microphone lingered in his mind. He never would have thought he'd be confident enough to sing on a stage in front of everyone – even if they were his work colleagues and it was just a Christmas party – yet Anna had a way of boosting his confidence and making him explore the possibilities.

He was next to her at the counter, and looked down to where flour was dusted and an array of utensils were scattered, albeit quite neatly.

"Christmas cookies," she explained before he could enquire. "We used to bake them for our Grandma. I wanted to get some off to my sister before it was too late."

They both gazed at the three trays worth of golden biscuits that were cooling on top of the hob.

"I think I might have gone overboard, though." She laughed to herself as she scooped up a bowl, placing it in the crook of her arm. "I can never judge."

"Always better to have too many than not enough," he responded, watching as she whisked the glossy white mixture.

"That's true," she smiled back. "They won't go to waste, at any road."

Her sly smirk said it all, and he chuckled. Between her and the meals that her mother insisted on preparing every night, they were feeding him up very well.

"If they taste as good as they smell, you'll have a job keeping me away."

"That'll be the cinnamon. It's funny, I only seem to like it at Christmas. Mum says they broke the mould when it came to me."

She adjusted the ties on her apron, setting the bowl back down onto the surface.

"You can help with the icing, if you'd like."

Her suggestion sounded more like a gentle plea, the lashes that framed her blue eyes fluttering ever-so slightly.

"Don't have a steady hand," he replied. "I wouldn't want to damage your reputation."

"I'm not sure the kids would mind all that much," she countered. "They don't last too long until there's only crumbs left, if they're anything like me and Ellie."

He perched himself on the stool at her side, following her movements draping the icing with the wooden spoon onto the treats shaped like stars and miniature trees. The tip of her tongue poked from the side of her mouth while she focused intently, and the ends of her hair ended up dipping into the bowl as she leant a bit too far forward.

"Oh, sugar," she exclaimed, angling her head awkwardly to get out of the way. "I should have tied it up."

"Here," John jumped down from his seat, his broad frame taking position behind her. "I can come in useful after all."

With no hair-grip to hand, he took her flowing locks into both of his hands instead, holding it back for her whilst she finished her handiwork. He heard her laughing lightly and mumbling a  _thank you_ , and he did his very best to keep still, cradling her hair within his palms as though it was as precious as spun gold.

"It's alright now," she said after a few minutes, straightening her back. "Your arms must be aching."

"It was no problem," he answered, somewhat reluctant to let go of her soft tresses. Still, he raked his fingers through them lightly before they fell with a delicate swoop. His thumb brushed the back of her neck and tingles ran in circles around his stomach.

When she turned around he was still standing rather too close to her, and he caught the way her breath hitched and she didn't know quite where to look, if just for a second or so.

He was sure he didn't know how magic could be defined, but that one moment certainly felt like it.

She exhaled another breath, glancing down to his feet either side of hers before finding his eyes again.

Like second nature.

"Um, they'll be ready to eat soon enough," she said, sounding a touch flustered.

It was nothing to the way his heart was hammering against his chest.

"I'll sort out the scruffy ones, and we can keep those for ourselves."

He nodded his head slowly, his eyes locked with hers and his hand somehow upon her hip.

He let go, slower than he should have.

"I might go for a walk," he uttered, the words nearly stopped in his throat. "Before it gets too dark."

She nodded, wiping her hands upon her apron. They remained frozen for another minute, before she whirled, bringing across one of the trays with a small clatter onto the counter.

"They'll definitely be ready when you get back."

He smiled at her while she moved about the kitchen, the twinkling from the lights of the tree inside catching the corner of his eye as he took his coat and boots into the hall.

In truth he didn't need the sharpness of the wind and the cool open air to clear his mind, for he knew it already.

He was in love with Anna.


	2. Chapter 2

Bells chimed in the distance, rousing him from restless dreams. They told him what day it was before he was properly aware – and more importantly, they told him where he remained, despite all of his intentions. Sunlight coated with frost pushed at the cover of the curtains. John groaned, unfurling himself slowly from the cocoon of blankets surrounding him.

A sleeve from one of his jumpers poked from the top of his hastily-packed holdall, sitting patiently in the corner of the room. The notepad stayed at the side of the bed, its last word kept in place with the pen that lay between the pages, waiting to bring forth more.

He reached for it, thumbing through the pages and shaking his head faintly as he did so. He hadn't stopped writing since he'd been here. Some of the words were messier than others, a few he couldn't quite make out. Most of it was perfectly legible and really quite decent, he had discerned. Better than anything he'd wrote or even attempted in a long while.

He stopped again at the page that contained the first proper line, after many before it that had been scratched out.

_Nothing ever came at the right time._

It could have been the story of his life, even if he hadn't meant it to be autobiographical.

She had found him sitting on the sofa, mindlessly watching a TV movie – background noise for his hectic mind. Her smile lit up as she placed her mug down upon the table, pulling a DVD out from the rack. The soft music of the film's titles filtered into the room and she settled down next to him, her frame causing the cushions to rise only slightly. She wore patterned socks that looked several sizes too big for her feet, and every now and then they brushed against his, perfectly by accident.

The film ended and she never bothered to turn off the DVD menu, the soft music continuing as a soundtrack to their conversation. She had been working most of the day – her last day until the New Year – and he shouldn't have kept her up. Her eyes were tired as he talked, though her attention was as rapt as it ever was.

The way she placed her hand absolutely innocently against his arm reminded him of something and it became suddenly impossible to hold back the tears that gathered in his throat. He hadn't meant to, especially not with her there right by his side. His grief was the last thing she needed after such a long day.

Her voice soothed his fears, stopped him from crying quite so much.

_I'm so sorry that she's not here. I know how much you loved her._

The night started with her apology – for which there was no need - and ended with his.

For which there was more need than he could ever express.

He didn't know why he had begun; it had never been like him to pour out his soul. The words came spilling from him and though he searched, he couldn't find the break to stop them. It wasn't for her sake. It would have been infinitely better for her if he had never breathed a word.

The look on her face shifted throughout the minutes, and he never registered it before his eyes, lost to his own emotions.

He remembered it now, too vividly every time he closed them.

As he was still trying to make sense of them, he told her of his feelings for her. Feelings that went past gratitude or graciousness, and the dearest kindness she had shown him in the past few weeks, though he couldn't have ignored that it had intensified what was already within his heart. Memories went through his mind every moment, and suddenly he wasn't shocked to discover all of the times he had felt soft and protective towards her, the many moments he had smiled after something she had said or done – many times, for him especially - and the warmth that had consumed him at the mere thought of her.

Thank God, he hadn't made the move to hush his mad ramblings by trying to kiss her. He would have been repulsed by himself; taking her by surprise with this bombshell alone had been quite enough. He had got to his feet regardless, moving away from where she sat, knees hugging against her chest as she gazed speechless up at him, in case some other foreign impulse occurred to him.

He made different vows – ones that should have been more forthcoming before he had decided to reveal most of what had been keeping him up at night. She had followed him seconds later through the hallway, and he didn't turn to look at her – hearing her voice chase him made him feel guilty enough.

_John. It's Christmas Eve._

That meant so many things, and he was only half-glad that she didn't clarify any of the possibilities.

Before he made it to the top of the stairs, shutting the door behind him and taking his few items of clothing from their hangers, he heard her small word – somehow he did, though it was whispered quieter than the utterance of a parent hoping fervently not to wake their child with promises of how much they cared for them unconditionally.

_Please._

He hadn't left, creeping out quietly in the middle of the night, bag slung over his shoulder – nothing like a Father Christmas shadow, though the image was more amusing than it should have been when it flitted into his mind.

He hadn't left, though it may well have been easier.

It wasn't for him that he remained, but only for Anna. It would have broken her heart in the morning to find him gone without word or apology, souring the day that was always her most favourite of days. The weeks that he had stayed had told him much and how keenly she had been waiting for it to come around again. His own heart ached, and he doubted it would stop doing so for a while yet, but it would have been of little comparison.

He was surprised to find himself the first one downstairs, and he managed to smile taking sight of the presents wrapped neatly beneath the tree, some festooned with bows and shining ribbons. He reached around to turn their lights on once again, even though the sun shone in, cascading rays around the room.

Anna's mother greeted him with a wish for the day and a cup of tea, disappearing back into the kitchen almost as quickly as she had emerged, needing to ensure that everything was underway for the dinner later. He offered his help and not for the first time had it refused, Mrs Smith adamant that she wouldn't have a guest in the house do half the work. He wouldn't have minded but he knew better than to argue, so he gave a smile instead and went back to his cup.

Her voice rung out from the other room, the delight within evident.

"Merry Christmas, Mum!"

"Merry Christmas, my love."

John closed his eyes tight, hoping to repress the wild beat of his heart against his chest. He was really beyond all help if just the sound of her voice had such an effect upon him.

He braced himself, and yet his breath was still taken away when she walked into the room. Content to let the remainder of the tea go cold, he stood immediately and tried not to melt at the way she let out a small endeared laugh.

She was like an angel made real, the smart black and white dress suiting her perfectly and her haloed hair falling in delicate waves upon her shoulders. Aside from a little bit of colour on her lips, she was fresh-faced.

She looked exactly like she had done so many times before, and was just as beautiful as she had always been.

"Merry Christmas," he offered, aware he hadn't said anything to her since his regretful goodbye the night before, the goodbye he had not been able to see through for love of her.

"Merry Christmas," she replied after no more than a few seconds, the smile extending upon her face and travelling up into her eyes.

She could have made him wait or wonder for a little longer whether he had earned her forgiveness for his selfish confession. He would have deserved that with the way he had behaved towards her, running away without giving her the right to reply or simply to have the chance to let him down in the kindest way possible.

He might have wanted her to do any one of those things, but he had known she wouldn't.

He wanted to ask her whether they were okay, but he couldn't. He wasn't afraid – at least not completely. He had made the mistake of saying the right thing at the wrong time last night, and he wouldn't risk taking her smile away from her at this very moment.

She came closer towards him, and he felt himself freeze to the spot. There came no brush of her lips against his cheek, nor a hand upon his arm. It was no more and no less than he should have expected or deserved. Instead her eyes bore into his own, smiling gently whilst both of their figures were reflected in the twinkling of the lights upon the tree.

Smiles and laughs were shared, once-neat paper discarded in trails as present after present was plucked from beneath the tree and opened. John took heart in seeing Anna and her mother exchange gifts, half-pretending that they hadn't a clue what was beneath the wrapping but always remaining a touch surprised deep-down, and unable to hide their happiness most of all. Theirs made up the majority of presents beneath the tree, but there were a few left over at the end. Anna eyed them cautiously, and when no move had been made, handed the ones she had addressed the tags on towards John, stifling her laughter at his apparent shock.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he told her, his eyes still upon her as he began to fumble with a corner of tightly-wrapped paper.

"Of course I did," she answered, not in the least bit perturbed by his reaction. "It's Christmas. Do you want me to help you with that?"

John chortled, remembering too well how much of an expert Anna was when it came to gift-wrapping – no gap was left free from a liberal helping of sticking tape, the suspense kept until the very end.

"I can manage," he replied with a smile.

One by one he unveiled the gifts she had chosen. A calendar and a book of the walking history of Yorkshire seemed to go hand-in-hand, as did advice on writing from a host of famous authors and a rather hefty thesaurus. He had to laugh at her cheekiness on buying the latter.

He took yet longer with the last package, untying the gold ribbon wound artfully around it. Anna was practically beaming as he took the leather bound journal into both of his hands, the fountain pen that accompanied it not an afterthought in the least.

"Anna..." he started to breathe her name, quite overwhelmed by her generosity.

"I've seen you scribbling away," the faint blush rose in his cheeks as she spoke. "Can't have you running out of supplies, not when it's your masterpiece."

He shook his head modestly, running his palm over the cover and smiling at the embossed 'J.B.' in the corner. It couldn't have been a coincidence, and the sparkle in her eyes confirmed his suspicions.

He held up the glittering stocking by the loop of silky fabric with his thumb. It didn't seem much at all compared to his bounty, just bits and pieces that he had acquired and looked out for while he had been here and a couple of things he had bought while still in London.

Anna received it with a grin and took out the small trinkets one after the other with yet more glee.

"Oh John, they're all perfect," she exclaimed, unwrapping another large chocolate bar after the tealights and the bottle of her favourite hand cream.

"I don't know about that, but I did my best," he said, finding that his face was still too hot. He moved away from the seat nearest to the fireplace, perching on the arm of the sofa instead.

She gazed up at him from where she was kneeling upon the floor surrounded by paper.

"You always do," she replied after a few moments, making him smile.

She was happy, and that was all that truly mattered to him.

* * *

The day went by faster than he had expected it to, though he didn't want to linger on what could have been if he hadn't taken up her offer all those weeks ago. Dinner was bountiful, and despite having attempted seconds, thirds were quite beyond him. They watched terrible television and took it in turns to play card games in front of the fire. There was still enough food in the fridge to feed a small army, and they made their way through some of it, picking at bits throughout the evening for their next meal.

Though the worry remained in the back of his mind, there had been no awkwardness between them. Everything had been as it had before, as though time had rewound and he had never let the secret slip out. He was relieved, at least for the most part. And when it came to the rest – well, he would just have to teach himself to be content, because he had no reason not to be. He had not lost her friendship despite running such a huge risk, and that was nothing to mourn. Without sounding terribly sentimental about it, it was the greatest gift that he could own.

Her mother headed up to bed at around half ten, having been up incredibly early to get the feast of the dinner going. The volume had been lowered on the sound system, but Anna was still dancing around the room, singing along to every song that played with a half-drunk glass of prosecco in her hand. She denied that she had had too much, yet John thought she was a tiny bit tipsy, if not that much. It only added to her exuberance, and he couldn't take the smile off his face as he watched her display, dispensing of another chocolate from the box on the table and rustling the wrapper between his fingertips.

"Come on," she held her hand out towards him as a particular song started up. "For old times' sake."

It was strange to think of it being so long ago, but he supposed that time went faster now.

There was no hesitation as he took her hand into his own, watching her dance next to him as he made his way through the tune. He hadn't sung in quite a while, and he wouldn't normally bother, but it had been one of her favourites.

Her giggles sounded much better to him than his melodies, a little off-pitch for his liking, though she didn't complain.

Holding her hand aloft, he spun her round as the song came to a merry conclusion.

"Encore!" she called out, raising her finger to her lips when she realised her volume.

"I think there's been quite enough of that," he smirked. "What's say we help your mother out and do some of those dishes. It's only fair after she went to so much effort."

After a few moments, Anna nodded her agreement with a smile.

"It takes half the time with two," she remarked, as they made their way through the mountains of dishes in the kitchen at a speed that was quite incredible indeed.

Their eyes met as they packed the last of the newly-clean plates away, and John took Anna's lead as she beamed, a hint of shyness held in her gaze.

"I hope you've had a good day," she half-asked, smoothing the tea-towel back onto its rack. Her voice was gentle but eager, and he told himself again that it was useless to build his hopes up.

"I have," he answered honestly, a half-smile pulling his lips upwards. "You and your mother have both been wonderful. All things considered, I know I haven't been the jolliest guest."

Anna dismissed him with a firm shake of her head, while her gaze stayed soft and understanding.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair now that they were aimless. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about her. I know she would have liked to have hung on to see another Christmas, but it wasn't meant to be, and it was a blessing, really. It would have been hard with the pain she was in...God, I feel awful even saying that."

"You shouldn't," Anna assured him. She was closer to him now; he could feel the warmth and comfort of her embrace without even being in her arms. "She's in a better place."

John nodded; even though he didn't share Anna's beliefs, he knew what she said was true and that she spoke to the things he believed in too.

"It's been easier than I thought it would be." He wanted to tell her that it was because of her, but it felt too soon after everything he had said. Even so, he was certain that his eyes were giving him away for every second he looked at her. "Thank you for that."

"You never need to thank me," she replied, "but you're welcome, all the same."

He only hoped that he knew how grateful he was; as the situation was, a smile would have to do. Perhaps a hug or two before he had to leave – although really, he didn't need to go anywhere.

"About last night..."

She spoke tentatively, shuffling on her feet. His heart sunk like a stone past his stomach, and yet he knew that wouldn't be the worst of it.

"Anna, forget I said anything. Honestly."

"I don't know if that's the best idea."

She smiled with her eyes sincerely – no doubt doing her best to soften the blow. John silently sighed, leaning back against the counter and accepting that he needed to take responsibility for his actions.

"You're my best friend," she began, fiddling with the ring that lived on her right hand. "And nothing will ever change that."

"That's a relief," he smiled, being unable to refrain from doing so.

His attempt at trying to make light fell somewhat flat; Anna's eyes were more insistent on his than ever before as she glanced up at him. She teethed at the corner of her lip, her hands in the air before she placed them upon the skirt of her dress.

"I have been worried about you."

He saw the concern in her gaze, had seen it in many moments since he'd been staying. God, he hated so much that he was the cause of any fear for her. A part of him was convinced that it would have only got worse if they were together, and he didn't think he could have coped with that. Another small mercy was to be had.

"When I asked you here, I wasn't expecting you to be happy, and that was fine." She took a moment to collect herself; John noticed the shimmer of tears in her eyes that made her irises appear a slightly darker shade of blue. "I just wanted you to be with someone who cared about you. That's all I cared about."

If it was at all possible, he was falling more in love with her. Her eyes, her empathy, her words; the way she looked at him as though he was the only person in the world that mattered.

"I have been happy," he said. "Truly."

She smiled at his words, even though she seemed to be holding something back.

"I don't know if I've been happy," she admitted.

He couldn't help but be confused. Ever since the first night he had stayed, she was nothing but absolutely joyful. She had been so excited the last time he saw her, and he knew it was something she had wanted for a while – to start a new career, to go back to the place where she was born and grew up. Perhaps it hadn't been all she was expecting; that the hours and effort had left her exhausted, or maybe Mary was just too demanding as a boss.

"Do you know the worst part of leaving London?" she asked, not expecting an answer, though he shook his head silently.

A little unsteadily, she took in and then exhaled a breath slowly.

"Leaving you behind," she uttered, each word more considered than the last. "Being without you."

Their gazes locked together more closely, and all of a sudden both of her palms were pressed against his chest. He gasped in a breath at the sensation of her touch – a touch that seemed to mean more now – a thousand, not all incompatible, feelings flowing throughout him.

Though he wasn't completely sure she wanted him to, he instinctively brought his arms to circle around her. He caught sight of her smile growing bigger, and that gave him his answer, as unimaginable as it had been only moments ago.

"Anna," he said her name slowly, with more reverence than he ever had said it before. Gently, he touched her arm, tingles coursing through him as bare skin kissed skin.

"I don't want to intrude," she said as she breathed him in, his closeness, running one of her hands down his side. "You're still going through so much, and it's a lot to consider. There's no rush, and I understand."

His head whirled slightly; he wasn't sure whether he could take this in, whether it was actually real or he was dreaming.

"The last thing you could ever do is intrude," he replied after a moment, still half-amazed by how far she had opened him up, and not just within the last few weeks. "I thought I'd be taking advantage of you. And I'd never...I mean, I wouldn't even try...Jesus."

She let out a soft giggle, staring up at him.

"Perhaps you shouldn't think so much," she teased. Her arms raised, and she slipped her hands across the blades of his shoulders, eliciting a quiet groan from him. They settled into place, and she smiled with a beauty he had seen a thousand times, but had not properly noticed until now. "I'm very glad you said what you said, because I was starting to wonder whether I was just going out of my head."

"We can't have that," he replied softly.

It felt unbelievably natural to have his palms cradling her hips, but he couldn't stop himself from frowning.

"This isn't me getting caught up, you know. Or trying to show how much these last weeks have meant to me. Though they've meant so much."

He began to give way to a smile when he saw the look in her eyes that hadn't left.

"I know," she replied, letting her fingertips drift across him tenderly, teasing away all of his anxiety. "I don't want you to worry. I just hope I don't sound too forward when I say this."

He was curious. "Say what, exactly?"

She gave him an innocent smile, her eyes sparkling.

"If you want me, you can have me, Mr Bates."

They both laughed, letting go of any tension that remained between them, but not each other for a second. Their smiles were shared and their gazes were upon the other, adoring and believing more of what the other said and meant with every moment that passed.

"How lucky I am," she said, her voice catching only slightly. "To be in love with my best friend."

John cupped her cheek with his hand, caressing her skin lightly. Her eyes closed before his did – he wanted to look at her and the beaming smile on her face until the very last moment – and before very long at all, so tenderly, their lips met. He tasted the slight fizz and the chocolate, the soft sweetness that comprised her. She held onto him as their kiss deepened, and he only hoped that the moment was as wonderful to her as he found it.

For him, kissing her was like coming home.

She broke away from him slowly, not before catching his bottom lip in both of hers. Her eyes were hazy, and her smile more so, her hands more certain as they remained upon his sides.

After a few moments she found her voice again, and her reply made him smile wider than he ever had in his whole life, never mind the last couple of weeks.

"I'm quite certain that's the best present you've given me today. Or ever before, if I'm honest."

* * *

_Five years later: Present day_

The tree was finally dressed, complete with glowing lights covering almost every inch, and it had to be said that it was the best one they had had to date.

Of course, that was the case every year.

Feeling quite done in – he always underestimated how much hard work went into decorating a Christmas tree – John retreated to his writing bureau at the other side of the room. The twinkling coming from the centrepiece cast a warm light around the place, and he smiled as he took the brown leather-bound book out from the drawer, slightly battered around the edges but still with a few clean leaves inside. He popped the lid from the fountain pen, pushing the nib lightly with the tip of his finger and watching as the small dot of ink bloomed upon his skin.

He had spent almost all day taking care of one tradition, but he wasn't too tired to see to another.

_Dear Mother,_

_I almost can't believe that another Christmas is here. Time seems to pass quicker with each year, but I know you wouldn't want me to brood about it. I'm a lucky man indeed – each year I have less and less to complain about, and more and more to celebrate, and though it could certainly be easy to do I don't take any of my good fortune for granted._

_It also seems unbelievable to claim it, but I can honestly say that this year is the happiest to date._

_My second book was published in September. It seems to be selling well – Tom tells me better than the first, though I'm not keeping count; I'll leave that to the people who know best. I still have to pinch myself that I get to write for a living now. You did always say I would one day, and I owe you a lot of apologies for not taking what you said as seriously as I should have done. Anna says I should have used my own name rather than a pseudonym, but I prefer it this way, and it means that she's the one who gets to keep it - and me - for herself. I do miss working with Robert and everyone, but I still get to see them every now and then. Once you're an adopted member of the Crawley family, there's no way of leaving, not completely. I'm getting some ideas together for the third book, nothing too solid at the moment but hopefully they'll find their way out in time._

_It's hard to keep my mind occupied on work when it's so full of something else._

_Anna's due date is getting nearer and nearer, and I'm not sure which one of us is more excited. It feels like only yesterday that she told me the news, a couple of days after our anniversary. Part of me is sad that this part is nearly over, but I know that the journey is only just beginning and I can't wait to meet the little one. Anna's still keeping chipper but she's tired, and I wish I could do more for her aside from rubbing her feet and making her tea. I suppose I'll have enough to do in the months to come, and I'm not going to complain for one moment. It could be any day now, really. Anna is convinced that the baby will decide to make their appearance on Christmas Day, and I guess it would be fitting._

_A new member of the Bates tribe soon to be in the world. I only wish you could have met him or her (I wanted to find out, but Anna convinced me that it would be better as a surprise), but I know you'll love them just as much as Anna and I will. As much as we already do. (I didn't think it was possible to love someone so much, but then I never expected any of this. It's all thanks to taking chances, and I thank my lucky stars every night that Anna decided to take a chance on something more for the both of us.)_

_Take care, Mum, and happy Christmas._

_All my love, John xxx_

He removed his glasses, wiping away the tears that had formed in his eyes as he had been writing the letter. He didn't get too sentimental about it now, and as hard to believe as it had been that first year it did follow that time was a healer. His mother was still missed so very much, especially at this time of year. But his anger and frustration at her passing had gone. It was the nature of life for things to change, as well as to be dearly cherished, and he found that he didn't cling on so tightly anymore.

Love healed him too.

Her hand was upon his shoulder, and he smiled, turning in his chair to see her properly.

"Anna," he uttered, shaking his head at the plate of cookies she held in her hands. He had an idea she had been up to something while he had been busy with the tree, and she couldn't have been in the bath all that time. "You shouldn't be doing anything more than sitting on the sofa. I put that bell on the table for a reason."

"The baby was hungry," she shrugged, answering his smile with one of her own as she devoured one of the iced biscuits.

He plucked a small one from the plate, saving the rest for her. His grin was unstoppable taking in the sight of her in the Christmas jumper, and how her huge belly perfectly accentuated Rudolph's red nose. With a gentle touch he brought his hand to cradle the bump that sheltered their child, taking delight in the way Anna smiled contentedly at the scene of their living room.

"Aww, the tree is beautiful," she cooed. "I'm sorry I couldn't help out."

"I'm not," he exclaimed. "I'd rather you didn't go into labour while I was tangled in a string of lights, unable to help."

She laughed, covering his hand with her own and using them both to give her stomach a rub.

"They won't come yet," she said, continuing to be confident of the guess she had made. "Although, I was thinking of names while I was in the bath. What do you reckon to Holly for a girl, and Noel if it's a boy?"

He tipped his head to the side, valiantly not trying to grimace. "Umm, well, if that's what you'd like, my darling..."

"I'm joking, you silly beggar," she chuckled, tapping her hand against his arm. "I haven't lost my mind completely."

He shook his head, issuing a kiss upon her hand. "That could never happen."

She gave him a loving smile, the twinkling from the tree bouncing from the gold band upon her finger.

"We're agreed on one thing anyway, if it's a girl then she'll have your mum's name as a middle name."

He pressed another kiss over her knuckles, brushing his lips over her fingertips.

"We just need to figure out what names go well with Maeve," he replied with a smile. "I'm looking forward to finding out."

"Me too," she said, leaning forward towards him.

John guided her with his hands at either side of her, making sure she didn't have to stretch too far to meet his lips. Her laughter muffled as he got rid of the bit of icing that had been left behind at the corner of her mouth.

"Only twenty days to go."

"Hmm, I'm not sure," he pondered. "I think this one will keep us waiting a little bit longer. What odds will you give me for New Year's Eve?"

He grinned as he watched her stretch her hand across her belly once more.

"Fair to very good, I'd say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I just couldn't resist mirroring canon there at the end *grins*.


End file.
